By Mark Azzara
My Dear Friend,
I spent hours on Sunday trying to write my weekly column. I thought I had an idea, then it fizzled, then I got another idea but it sort of petered out. Then I realized these ideas were possibly two sides of the same coin so I tried to combine them, to no avail.
So I went to the market, and then to the mall to buy a birthday card at the Hallmark store. And in the aisle next to the birthday cards I found exactly what I wasn’t looking for. Christmas cards.
On the day before Labor Day.
And tree ornaments, too.
Look, I’ve already experienced enough stress as I’ve decelerated from a wonderful vacation and readapted to a city that’s too crowded, too noisy, too hot. I’m annoyed at myself because I failed to write the column I had in mind. I’m upset about the media circus that has grown up around the Kim Davis/gay marriage license mess in Kentucky. (From where I sit it sure looks like she’s doing more harm than good for the Christian faith.) And I’m just plain bummed about those darned Christmas cards.
Hey, a guy can only do so much, you know. I didn’t miss a week of writing when I was on vacation. But now I’m taking a week off. Maybe the picnic on Monday – a friend asked me to bring “pretzel rolls” at $6 per package – and a swim in the hosts’ pool will cheer me up, restore by energy, wash away all that stress.
Many a child has been told, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t saying anything at all.” So, OK, I won’t. I’ll keep my mouth shut. Besides, you don’t really want to read a column in which I spout off about Davis or the church pastor in Toronto who doesn’t believe in God or the Bible. Do you? If you want to call this rebellion, go ahead. To be honest I’m too stressed out to care.
